[…] l’être du language n’apparaît pour lui-même, que dans la disparition du sujet.
Michel Foucault “La Pensée du dehors” Critique No. 229 (June 1966)
In the poetry of Edward Mycue, collected in Mindwalking 1937-2007, one comes to “Word Thumb” which is a paean to the songs and stories heard in a childhood family setting and lead the speaking voice to claim by poem’s end
I carry in me a singing man my father gave me.
Note that it is not a father that “I” is carrying but a “singing man”. Note too that as readers we have witnessed a performance of the singing man by reading the previous lines celebrating the “radiance of life’s simple pleasures”.
Inspired by Mycue, I look to my history with my own father to see what equivalent to a singing man I might have internalized. My fond memories turn to the beach. There I recall how I learnt to trust. Learning to swim alternated between trusting that my father would not only buoy me up should I begin to sink but also that he would in his wise way let go. It was an experience that repeated itself in learning to ride a bicycle.
The other condensable image that the beach trips gave me was the memorable experience of digging a hole and marvelling as it filled with water at its bottom. It’s fine introduction to the penetrating power of water and water-like thoughts.
And the long walks along the beach in search of driftwood, I like to think have made me a patient hunter of treasure tossed up. Life’s a beach.
Indeed it is this careful searching along the littoral that allowed me to come across Mycue’s signature on the copyright notice page. Odd little bit that we set afloat again here like a note from a signing/singing man.
And so for day 1195